SU TANG (素醣)

  Day 29, 4th Month of the Lunar Calendar, 6000th Year of the Yun Dynasty, Taishan Province, Tian’an Sect

  Almost as soon as the morning greeting began, it ended.

  The Empress, of all people, had been remarkably cordial—considering Zhao Lili’s impending death sentence. Lady Ze, too, looked completely unbothered. Not angry. Not smug. Not even drugged. Just...indifferent. Like she’d been through too much to bother reacting anymore.

  After her public humiliation, she simply stood, bowed like the others, and left the room with the elegance of someone who had not just been emotionally steamrolled. Naturally, as her tagalong servants, we followed.

  We trailed behind her through the corridor, where wind teased at the fabric of her sleeves. She drifted like a ghost half-remembering where it was supposed to haunt until she faltered. One step caught, and she suddenly clutched the railing.

  Reflexively, I caught her by the shoulders.

  She turned toward me.

  Her eyes—amethyst like crushed gemstones—locked on mine.

  When I first met her, I thought something wasn’t right in her head. Especially when she was too busy raving and trembling like a storm in human form. Back then, clarity was a stranger to her face.

  Now, it had come knocking.

  Now, her eyes looked steady and frighteningly clear.

  She studied me. Really studied me. Tilted her head, blinked—once, twice, a few too many times—and I could see the thoughts lining up in her mind like nervous courtiers.

  Then, without a word, she gently slipped out of my hands and walked on, her gait loose and wobbly. Her hair, barely held by a single pin, spilled down her back like black silk unravelling. But unlike before, it didn’t give the impression of messiness. Rather, she seemed wistful and aged.

  As if her hair had grown too heavy for her body to carry.

  It swallowed her tiny frame, revealing the outline of a girl too thin, too breakable. A girl who had somehow lived through all those punishments.

  Or maybe, a killer, as the court whispered. But standing behind her, I couldn’t see a monster. Only a woman stitched together with grief and illusions.

  When we arrived at her quarters, she sank into a chair, perched at the very edge like someone afraid the seat might vanish.

  “I’ll prepare a bath,” said Wan’er, still wearing that delicate frown she thought was subtle.

  “No need,” Lady Ze replied, softly.

  It was the first time she had spoken that day. And it wasn’t a babble. It wasn’t chaos. It was...calm. Oddly so.

  “But Your Ladyship, you’re injured! At least let me tend—”

  “I would like to be alone,” Lady Ze said, eyes cast to the table.

  Wan’er looked at me for help, her desperation so loud I could hear it without words. But I wasn’t about to throw myself into the deep end over a bath refusal. Not today.

  We both turned to leave.

  “Wait.”

  We froze.

  “You. The one next to Wan’er. You, stay. Wan’er, go.”

  Oh.

  Wan’er gave me a sour look, but she obeyed. “As you wish, Your Ladyship.”

  And then it was just me. In the oversized room. Too far from the door to bolt. Too far from Lady Ze to be helpful.

  “Come here.”

  Well then. I might as well get a good look at her whilst I’m here. Perhaps I can find some clue.

  Stolen story; please report.

  I walked closer, counting each step like it owed me a tax. When I reached about a meter away, I bowed out of habit.

  But she grabbed my elbow before I could finish.

  Then she leaned in, forehead tilted, inspecting me like I was a puzzle she used to own but misplaced one piece of. She looked under my chin. At the top of my head. Into my eyes.

  I swallowed.

  Then she reached for me again, and I instinctively flinched—thanks to the very fresh memory of the Empress threatening to slice Shuo Qing’s face like a peach.

  “So alike,” she whispered.

  I blinked.

  She blinked back.

  “So alike.”

  “Lady Ze?” I asked cautiously.

  She cupped my face in her icy hands. I didn’t pull away. Mostly because I was too stunned. Her fingertips, freezing cold, rested against my jaw. And then her eyes—those shimmering amethysts—filled with tears.

  Her lashes trembled like spider silk in the wind.

  Her lips lifted slightly, and she leaned in until our foreheads nearly touched.

  “Little Socks,” she murmured, “I’ve missed you.”

  Little... who now?

  “Lady Ze,” I said carefully, trying to remove her hands with all the force of a deflating rabbit.

  “No…shhh...”

  She closed her eyes, and a brilliant smile graced up her face, almost as if she was about to break into laughter. But not the sarcastic or cold kind of laughter. No, it was a smile reserved for her dearest. She thumbed the sides of my face carefully and I could feel myself being lulled by her affection.

  “Listen to me. I have to go soon. Be careful tomorrow, okay? Be careful...I’ll be back…”

  Her voice faded to a whisper, and I thought that she might have fallen asleep. I slowly attempted to retract my face.

  Her eyes flew open.

  And she shoved me.

  I staggered back as if yanked by invisible strings.

  “YOU!”

  Her scream ricocheted around the room. Her eyes turned wild.

  “I told you to stay put! Why did you disobey me!? WHY DIDN’T YOU LISTEN!?”

  I scrambled to my feet. Normally, that kind of yelling would’ve earned someone a flying kick. But this time, I held back.

  I knew she wasn’t yelling at me. Though, her physical attacks still packed a punch.

  Suddenly, she was clawing at her sleeves, then her elbows, then her ribs, and then her hair. Then the air. As if grief were ink spilled on her skin, and she was scrubbing to erase it.

  She stared at her hands.

  Then began rubbing them together. Again. Again. Again.

  She looked at her palms. Shocked. Horrified. Of some stain that only she could see.

  Her shouts and scoldings turned to panicked wails.

  She rubbed her hands on her dress. Then the table. The floor. Her cries grew sharper, more jagged. Her body folded in on itself as she dropped to her knees with a sickening thud.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please look at me. Please, please, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to…”

  She clawed at the floor until her nails lay in shards. Her voice was hoarse, her pleas wet and raw.

  I wondered who Little Socks was. Perhaps it was a figment of her imagination. Or perhaps it was someone she had lost. I didn’t know who Little Socks was. Maybe no one. Maybe someone real.

  And yet...

  I thought of Xiao Wu.

  His laugh. His smile. His hugs. His warmth.

  Everyone thought Lady Ze was mad. But I could see it for what it truly was. It was grief for the only light in her life to have been utterly and cruelly snuffed out.

  It was the horror written all over her that was most telling of what had happened. Of what she had done. Her panicked wails and frantic scrambling to clean what could not be cleaned.

  Memories couldn’t be so easily erased.

  Truth couldn’t be traded for lies, no matter how hard we tried.

  She started clawing at her face. I scrambled over to her and gripped her wrists, just before she could turn her face to ribbons.

  But her broken nails caught me, tearing streaks across my cheek like tiny razors. I gasped.

  My eyes stung.

  She looked at the blood on my face and froze.

  Then whimpered, “Oh. Oh. What have I done?”

  Her hands fluttered around my cheeks like broken wings. “What have I done?”

  It hurt terribly and I worried it would leave a scar. She was broken. She was hurt. I was broken. I was hurt. But somehow, I found it within me to hold my tongue. I pressed my hand next to hers; this time to hold it, not pull it away.

  “Don’t worry, Lady Ze. Everything is fine.”

  She looked at me like a drowning woman glimpsing shore.

  “Everything is fine?” she whispered.

  I nodded, fighting the urge to cry. “Yes.” I focussed hard not to stumble over the next phrase. “Little Socks is fine too.”

  “Little Socks…is fine?”

  I nodded again, this time risking a smile, even though my face felt like it was burning like a thousand suns. “Little Socks is fine.”

  She cupped my face tighter and pressed her forehead into mine. It was strange that from this broken woman, this woman who had endured shame, humiliation, whipping, and death, I could feel a tendril of warmth. Relief flooded her features and that smile she reserved for her dearest returned.

  And for one heartbeat, one breathless instant, I smiled too.

  Because in that moment, pretending made it feel almost real.